


How to Love Your Demon

by piginapoketuesday



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal, Demon Dean Winchester, Hurt Castiel, M/M, Oral Sex, Sexual Content, canon destiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-30
Updated: 2014-06-04
Packaged: 2018-01-27 15:54:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1716239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/piginapoketuesday/pseuds/piginapoketuesday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel returns to the bunker to find that Dean is alive, but not in a good way. Crowley convinces Castiel to learn from him the finer points of having a demon lover.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Castiel arrived at the bunker, hoping, praying to whatever God might still exist that Dean Winchester was alive. That Metatron’s words had been the last resort of a desperate angel, to wring pain from his final victim before being brought to justice. Dean had the first blade, anyway . . . the scribe must have been no match . . .

“Castiel.”

He whipped around; fear growing in his stomach at the knowledge that he hadn’t felt the demon’s aura before hearing that grating English baritone. He was weaker than he’d anticipated.

“Crowley. Dean, is he—“

“Alive, yes. In a manner of speaking.”

The relief almost rushed in, but that smug tone . . . “What do you mean?”

“The Mark doesn’t free its owner, even in death, Castiel. He is not the charming, pain-in-the-ass hunter you knew.”

The stolen grace inside Castiel reeled against the very human agony that ripped through his vessel. Dean. A Knight.

“You,” Castiel spat, “You knew this would happen!” He moved so fast that Crowley almost caught a glimpse of his wings; tattered and bloody, but beating as wildly as the angel’s steadfast heart.

Crowley felt the power surge against his chest and force him into the wall. The hand that gripped his throat was both human and inhuman, and in Castiel’s eyes, he could almost make out a lion, ephemeral and ferocious, twisting its impossibly bright claws in the flesh of Heaven. “YOU KNEW!” The screech itself burned him.

And still, the demon king smiled. “Hopes and dreams, angel,” he choked, and snapped his fingers.

A burst of violent black smoke erupted from every pore of Crowley’s vessel and threw Castiel backward onto the Men of Letters’ table. The angel writhed, pain engulfing his entire being, before Crowley snapped his fingers again and watched as the body slumped brokenly against the table glass.

“Don’t get me wrong, here, Castiel. I’m impressed you managed to get it up. But even your fury is no match for the King without your grace. Forgive the bout of torture; I thought you needed to learn a lesson.”

Castiel swallowed, his being swollen and aching, both from the exertion and the pain. He could hardly stand, but he placed his feet on the ground and straightened his trench coat, looking up at Crowley with hatred in his still-bright eyes.

“I’m well aware that you love him, Castiel. But as a monster yourself, I’m sure the touch of a monster would be welcome.”

“I’m not like you,” Castiel sneered, supporting himself on the table edge.

Crowley lifted his head, “You seemed plenty content with shoving your tongue down Meg’s throat.”

Cas paused, confused. “I don’t know what you mean. My tongue—“

“It’s an expression, you thin-witted—“ Crowley sighed. “It’s not important. I’m trying to help you here, angel. Who knows, this could be good for you. His carnal desires have increased tenfold.”

Castiel’s eyes narrowed. “What are you—”

“Fucking. You’re aware of the concept? Don’t be so thick, Castiel. You want him, body and soul. Let yourself sin!”

The angel shook his head, almost imperceptibly, “I can’t. He’s not Dean. His soul is—”

Castiel was unprepared for how quickly the demon King was at his side, cupping his cheek and tilting his head up with a thumb below his chin. “Dark. His soul is dark.” With that, he pressed his lips against Castiel’s, reveling in the terrible rush of power that battled where their flesh met: an orgy of torment and grace.

Crowley pulled away after only a moment.

Castiel’s eyes looked betrayed, disgusted, and at the same time, invigorated. “What—“

“Let me teach you how to love him. His body is still his body, but his soul is wrathful, binding, and violent. You are weak, Castiel. You won’t survive him without my help.”

Cas hesitated. “I don’t—”

“Love me? Of course not. You don’t even like me. But you have to admit, you’re exhilarated by the thought.”


	2. Chapter 2

Castiel wondered if he could still love Dean. If he could forgive himself for loving the eldest Winchester this way. If he could bear a black smoke kiss; the hands of a devil. If the handprint seared into his best friend’s arm meant anything now that he was OF the fire, and could not be saved from it this time.

“So how about it, Castiel?”

He glared at Crowley. “Yes. I want to learn. But this is my body, and you will not do anything I do not allow.”

A salacious smile flashed in Crowley’s dark eyes. “Fair enough. Now, these clothes . . .”

Castiel began to remove his coat, but Crowley stopped him. “Ah, ah, a gentleman undresses his lover.” Cas paused and let the demon’s hands pull the trench coat from his shoulders. He was silent as deft fingers loosened the tie about his throat, unbuttoned his shirt, and removed his belt. As he stepped out of his trousers and socks, Crowley took his hand and pressed it to the button holding his blazer together. “Your turn,” he said gently.

Having only been with a woman before, Castiel was afraid, but he imagined this was Dean’s hunting jacket. Dean’s t-shirt and jeans. The fabric between his hands and Dean’s skin. He could do this.

He closed his eyes and leaned into the demon, taking Crowley’s mouth with his own. The violent energy on Crowley’s tongue gave him renewed strength, and he made quick work of the sleek clothing, taking care to run his thumb over the King’s Adam’s apple as he removed the tie.

“Good,” Crowley mumbled against the angel’s cheek. Slowly, he let his hands begin to wander over Castiel’s shoulders, chest, and back. He flicked a nipple and made certain his lips were there to catch his lover’s moan as he opened his mouth, his scruff reddening the other man’s fair skin as their cheeks rubbed together. “You’re going to have to be rougher, love,” he cooed, “Your hunter is a virile force of destruction.”

Castiel arched his chest and pelvis into the demon’s, digging his nails into the soft flesh of Crowley’s back and biting at a particularly tender spot on his throat.

The King almost growled in satisfaction. “Better,” he hissed, gripping Castiel’s chin and kissing him fiercely, the power between them a cocktail of love and war. The taste was incredible. Castiel felt a flurry of excitement in his stomach at the thought that if Crowley’s tongue could make him weak at the knees, then Dean’s kiss would be . . .

He whimpered softly, forgetting himself.

“Thinking of your boy toy? That’s all well and good, darling, but you have so much still to learn. For instance—” He gripped Castiel’s cock through his boxers, feeling the shaft harden a bit in his hand.

Cas gasped, but then felt a surge of need as the fingers played idly with the outline of his manhood. He nudged closer to the hand, but Crowley stopped. The demon yanked Castiel’s head back with a hand in his hair, and he pressed possessive lips to the angel’s bare throat. “First, pleasure me, and I’ll have you quivering in no time, love.”

He knew what that meant. Fair enough, he supposed. Practice would only heighten his experience with Dean. He dropped to his knees.

Nuzzling against the hot member, he pulled the cloth down thick legs and watched as Crowley’s cock bobbed in the air before him.

“I want your merciless tongue, Castiel,” Crowley ordered, “Your teeth. Your nails. The aching pleasure of pain. And Dean will, too.”

Cas looked up at the demon, and a sudden, viciously delighted smile crossed his face. He placed a kiss just below the ridge of Crowley’s dick. As his lover sucked in a breath, he wrapped his lips around the half-hard member and suckled the head. Slowly, he slid Crowley into his mouth and down his throat, swallowing around the intrusion to keep from gagging, then he pulled away, dragging his lips all the way to the tip. He let his tongue scrape along the bottom of Crowley’s cock, zigzagging the glands. For a few minutes, he continued this slow torture, and then suddenly, he forced his head all the way onto the shaft and bit down at the base, reaching up to squeeze the balls between his fingers.

Crowley moaned, his breath catching. “You—you—” He released the demon’s cock and immediately pressed his mouth to Crowley’s. 

“Silence,” Cas demanded, fisting the erection between them.

Crowley was panting. “I didn’t say—you could—”

“You have no control over me, Crowley.” He pulled his fingers away, and the demon King whined, bucking his hips uncontrollably in the hope that the friction would return. Castiel traced his thumb over the parted lips. “Beg for my mouth.”

“I—”

He teased the sensitive tip of Crowley’s cock with a single fingertip; then he withdrew.

Crowley’s voice was almost a sob. “Please, please—I need your mouth, lips, teeth—please—”

“My name, Crowley!”

“Castiel! PLEASE!”

Satisfied, the angel again dropped to his knees and sucked the aching cock into his mouth. He twisted his head sharply, left, then back to center, and eased the swelling flesh down his throat as Crowley cried out.

He swallowed, each jerk of the dick in his mouth leaving it more flaccid than the last, until it slipped from Castiel’s lips as Crowley sank to his knees.

The King cupped himself, spent. “You were—”

“No. Recover,” Castiel said quietly, hushing the demon. He placed a chaste kiss at Crowley’s jawline, ignoring for now his own need and pulling the naked form to lie against his chest. “Then it will be your turn.”


	3. Chapter 3

“Demons do not offer comfort,” Crowley whispered, “We torture, fuck, and leave.”

Castiel shrugged. “I am not like you.”

“Dean—”

“Dean knows who I am. He will not expect to be ravaged and abandoned. If I am rough, then after, I have to be gentle.”

“He won’t be gentle with you.”

Cas sighed, wishing for green eyes and strong arms embracing him. “I can’t change just because he is changed.”

Crowley caressed Castiel’s wrist lightly with two of his thick fingers. “Fine. But you still have more to learn.” He turned his head and kissed down Castiel’s bare chest, then moved up toward his neck. The soft sounds that came from the angel’s mouth as he tongued the curve of Castiel’s throat made Crowley harden again, but he would make certain that the doe-eyed man found his release first.

Taking care not to rub himself against Castiel’s leg, he turned so that they were facing each other. Their eyes locked, the tension causing Crowley’s eyes to shift from his vessel’s dark brown to a violent, demon red, like his bloody soul.

And yet Castiel was not afraid. He pulled the King’s lips to his and allowed the rough hand to toy cruelly with his prick. Crowley’s thumb teased his cock head, spreading the pre-cum that leaked ceaselessly from his slit.

“You’re wet, darling,” the demon teased, nipping Castiel’s ear.

Cas growled low in his throat; a mix of pleasure and defiance. The heat and friction between his legs was unbearable. The fingers working his sex were too much. He—

It all stopped, and the acute pain of almost release rushed through his cock and settled in each nerve. He gasped, squirming desperately, trying to get the fingers to return.

“Payback,” Crowley cooed in his ear, “You want so badly to cum. I know. Hush, let me take care of you.”

Cas couldn’t speak as he felt himself enveloped in a tight cavity. It only took a few thrusts before he burst, throwing his head back as the sensation overtook his body in a relentless wave.

“Oh, God . . .” Castiel whimpered.

Crowley twisted his fingers in the angel’s mussed hair. “Not God. Don’t you dare give that absent entity credit,” he sneered. Cas nodded weakly. “Let me clean us up a bit, and then we’ll get to the last part of your training.”

Cas lay back, dripping, and allowed the King to wave a hand over them. Instantly, they were clean of the sweat and cum that had clung to their bodies; clean of the evidence that they had made love.

“Castiel,” Crowley said softly, “This will be painful. But I will make it pleasurable for you, and—”

“Dean will appreciate you breaking me in,” Cas finished. “Do it. I’m ready.”

Crowley nodded, and, producing lubrication out of thin air, immediately went to work on Castiel’s cock, pulling and twisting his fist, letting his fingers play the shaft as his jerked up and down, like the veins were piano keys.

The angel groaned, letting himself be taken by the other man’s ministrations. Even when he felt the thick finger slicking his opening with something cool and wet, he remained still. He wanted Dean to slip more easily inside him, so he lay splayed for his enemy’s careful hands, even when the pressure turned to pain.

And yet the pleasure in his cock built as Crowley worked him open little by little, not so much distracting him from the agony but adding an equally powerful sensation that battled for dominance in his nerve endings. A finger entered him, then two, and it was all he could do not to cry out.

The fingers scissored back and forth, widening him. It was torture, but when they left, he felt their absence like an ache.

Then there were lips at his neck, gentle but fervent, and a cock pressed against his ass.

“I’m sorry, Castiel.”

The pain from the first thrust was so intense that he saw a flash of light and felt his wings ripple violently against the floor, but then it was just there, throbbing, and he didn’t know if the wetness dripping from him was the lube or his own blood, but there was something else, too; a deep and insane pleasure, as Crowley fucked him and jerked his weeping cock.

“You are a gorgeous beast,” Crowley whispered, kissing his lover full on the mouth, Heaven and Hell surging . . .

It was too much, and Castiel’s entire being shook with the force of his orgasm, his cock erupting against Crowley’s chest, his ass contracting around the King’s prick and forcing him to burst, as well.

The demon bit Castiel’s lip, arching his back involuntarily, and Cas couldn’t hold back a gasp.

Satiated, their bodies slumped together, Crowley’s softening member still buried in his lover.

“I think,” the King of Hell panted, running a slick hand through Castiel’s hair, “Your Knight will be pleased.”


	4. Chapter 4

“I want to see him,” Castiel said when they were both dressed.

Crowley buttoned his suit jacket. “He needs time.”

“No,” the angel’s voice was firm, “I have to see him. Now.”

The King sighed. “Alright. You aren’t going to like it.”

He took Castiel down the hall, to a thick door that couldn’t hold in the sounds of a man sobbing.

Cas hesitated, afraid of what he would see, but eventually he turned the handle and opened the door.

Dean was sitting upright on the edge of his bed, impossibly black eyes staring blankly at the wall. Sam was curled in a chair in the corner, holding his chest with his still-bloody hands, tears streaming through the grime on his face and spilling onto his neck. His long hair was soaked in sweat from the panic that accompanied the agony.

“Cas,” Sam moaned in a broken voice. “He’s not Dean anymore . . . he’s—”

“Sam.” Castiel was at his friend’s side immediately, tears in his own eyes as Sam stood to accept his embrace. Their arms clasped tightly around each other’s strong shoulders, shaking with the weight of their pain.

“I’m truly sorry, Moose.” Crowley’s English drawl had no effect on the two soldiers, and Sam moved quietly out of Castiel’s arms to kneel in front of his brother.

“Dean,” he said desperately, “DEAN!” He shook the eldest Winchester’s face. For an instant, the dark eyes flashed green, and then returned to their original state. “I know you can hear me, Dean!” Sam shouted, “Demon or not, you can hear me!”

Dean blinked and the black eyes were gone, replaced with his human ones. “Hello, Sam,” he said. There was no emotion. No personality. Only base recognition.

Sam felt his throat close. “Dean,” he breathed, broken, keeping his eyes on his lost brother even as the hot tears seeped down his cheeks.

Then Sam felt the familiar hands grab his wrist and turn his palm upward. He looked up into the blank green eyes as the coarse fingers pressed deeply into first the Lucifer scar, then the Trials scar.

“Sam. Sam.” Again, no emotion, but Dean pressed even harder on his brother’s scars, and Sam closed his hand around the fingers, daring to hope.

“Stone number one,” Sam said softly.


	5. Chapter 5

*ONE MONTH LATER*

They had discovered that whenever Sam and Cas were in the room, Dean’s rage visibly subsided, and it was much easier for him to control himself. Crowley tamed him, as well, grooming him into something of a respectable demon, despite Sam’s continued insistence that the demon King stay far away from them.

For the first few weeks, the boys would have to capture the monsters from their hunts and bring them back to the bunker for Dean to slaughter. It took a long time, but they had finally taught him to be selective and restrain himself from killing the humans involved in a case. Sam knew that Dean had to kill, but he refused to let anyone get hurt who didn’t deserve to feel the first blade.

On the personal front, neither of them were certain whether Dean, deep down, still loved them, but they had seen him grasp his scarred shoulder and squeeze Sam’s palm enough times to have hope that there were parts of him that remembered love, even if he could not feel it.

And Crowley had been right about the carnal desires. Hardly a week after his rebirth, Dean had pushed Castiel against a wall and kissed him violently. It took a night in the eternal Tuesday afternoon of an autistic man to calm the grief in Castiel at having lost their first kiss in that way.

Yet, little by little, they warmed toward each other, until Dean’s touch wasn’t bruising; until his kiss didn’t draw blood. Castiel was in constant pain, wishing for the man Metatron and the Mark had taken from him. Sam was a daily comfort, but even the youngest Winchester’s human kindness could not grant him what he truly wanted: to make love to Dean Winchester’s vibrant and steadfast soul, rather than the dark creature he had become.

“Dean,” he said, knocking on his friend’s door late one night. Sam was away on a case, and Crowley was dealing with a few under performers in Hell. They had the bunker to themselves, and Cas would be damned if he didn’t take this opportunity to utilize his . . . training. Technically, he’d be damned if he did, as well, but such were the breaks.

“Come in, Cas.”

He opened the door as Dean was blinking away his black eyes. “What’d you want?” Dean asked with forced nonchalance.

“You,” Castiel blurted before he could stop himself.

The black eyes slotted into place, accompanied by a hungry grin, and Dean was on his feet and at Cas’ side in a single breath. He reached for the angel’s face, but Castiel grabbed his wrist. Remembering himself, his eyes transitioned back to green.

“You don’t have to hold back,” Cas said, “I can take it.”

“Then take off your clothes,” Dean demanded, but immediately retracted his hand, as if to apologize.

“A gentleman removes his lov—” Castiel stopped, embarrassed. “Never mind.”

Dean’s eyes narrowed, so green it almost felt he was emulating humanity in earnest. This time, he reached for the trench coat and pulled it off of Castiel’s shoulders.

Cas smiled, moving closer and letting his hands slip the button-up off Dean’s arms and pull the dark t-shirt over his head.

They worked slowly, edging nearer for each button undone, each piece of clothing piled on the floor. Dean’s touch on his skin electrified his body with need. When the hunter’s hand slipped under the waistband of his boxers, he leaned in the final inches and captured Dean’s lips.

Their stubble rubbed as Dean’s nature kicked in and the kiss became animal: the roar of lions nuzzling, the swipe of bear claws, the in-flight dance of warring eagles. Where Crowley had tasted like hot coals and fine scotch, Dean was a bonfire, a teakettle scream, and a full-bodied whiskey. He was consuming, and Cas struggled not to melt in the heat of his blaze.

Their underwear fell to the floor and was kicked out of the way. Hands moved down Castiel’s spine and over the curve of his ass. Fingers combed roughly through his hair. Their chests heaved against each other as the kiss deepened, making both men—both creatures—wonder how they’d ever breathed without the other’s breath.

A rough hand encircled Castiel’s cock as he was pressed to the bed, and it was all he could do not to whine into Dean’s mouth. Finally, the touch he’d fantasized about for years was coming to fruition.

“Please, let me suck you,” Castiel begged as the hunter began to pump him to a straining erection.

Dean nipped at his collarbone. “Not tonight.”

“But—ahh!” The eldest Winchester silenced him with a deep massage just below the ridge of his cock head. He suckled on the column of Castiel’s throat, where the scruff ended and the bare skin began.

Dean grunted in satisfaction at the way the angel’s vessel was responding to his touch. “That’s what I thought.”


	6. Chapter 6

Dean’s hand seemed to have an integral map of his anatomy memorized. There wasn’t a nerve he hit that didn’t make Castiel want to cum right then, but he held back, praying he could feel Dean inside of him before—

Without warning, there were fingernails scraping down his back, so deeply he could feel himself losing feathers.

“Dean, Dean, please don’t—” Castiel found black eyes staring down at him, and the kiss that silenced him was almost all teeth. He squirmed, the capable hand still working his prick, as his lover was taken over by a monster.

“What is it, Cas? Don’t like it rough?” The dark sneer was in Dean Winchester’s voice.

“Dean, stop!” he half-cried, half-demanded. The creature on top of him shook his head, once, twice, frenzied as the static on a television stuck between channels.

Then the eyes were green. A careful hand swiped over the bloody wounds at Castiel’s back, sealing them beneath new and perfect flesh.

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” Dean said slowly, uncertain. He leaned in for another kiss, which Cas accepted warily. The lips were gentle, and he felt his bruised mouth heal.

“Passion makes you vi—” Sure hands pressed his shoulders back down onto the bed.

“Shh, Cas. I’ve got it now. I’m not gonna hurt you again.”

Dean pulled a bottle from his nightstand and unscrewed the cap, then let a generous amount of lube slip out onto his fingertips. He first gave attention to Castiel’s hole, loosening him as he toyed with the angel’s cock. Then he slicked up his own aching member, slowly, letting his lover watch the casual stroke and tremble with need.

When at last he pressed himself to Castiel’s ass, he gripped the dick between them, leaned down to tease a nipple between his teeth, and thrust.

The force of hardened flesh hitting his prostate made Cas shudder, and he could not stop his wanton moaning as Dean fucked and played with him. He wanted to live in this moment forever, with the Winchester’s fingers wringing pleasure from his sex, and the feeling of being so full he was sure he’d burst.

“Dean,” he pleaded, so close, “Dean, I’m—”

“Me, too,” the hunter panted, eyes closed, so Cas could not tell which part of Dean was in control during the final thrust, when neither of them could bear the pleasure any longer, and the coiled desire at last was released.  
As they lay together on Dean’s bed, breathing like men and kissing softly with all the power of Heaven and Hell, Castiel felt relief. He was dying, graceless, and no one was sure whether Dean would ever truly be Dean again, but they’d gotten this moment. They had gotten to be together, despite the rough patches. Despite everything.

***

When Cas stepped out into the dim hallway and closed the door behind him, he caught a peripheral glance at a dark figure standing a few dozen feet away, and he almost yelped. Then he saw the soft light from the kitchen land on Crowley’s face, and he relaxed, smiling despite himself.

The King of Hell smirked a bit in return, then winked, and with a snap of his fingers disappeared in a wisp of smoke.

~end~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading! If you enjoyed it, please leave a comment and tell me what you liked, what you didn't, and what you want more of in new fics! Much love, piginapoketuesday xoxo :)


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